


Song of the Sea

by anaraine



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Background Het, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: There is a heartbeat. A pulse and throb that reverberates through her bones. A song that sweetly calls her down to where the waves lapped at the dock.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blanketed_in_stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/gifts).



> The background het tag, of course, refers to Elizabeth/Will.   
>  (Also posted [here at my dreamwidth](http://anaraine.dreamwidth.org/218919.html).)

She stands in the surf, water foaming around her ankles and splashing up her calves as she waits, watching the horizon. A flare of green and the Dutchman disappears like lightning, the flash leaving spots behind her eyes. Elizabeth digs her toes into the wet sand, body poised and aching - as if she could jump into the water and swim after him, but... no.

One day ashore, ten years at sea.

That is the price they have chosen to pay, and she will do it, even with a heart grown heavy in her hands.

It is with quiet dignity that she stays on the shore, the ocean breeze lifting her hair and the water curling around her like a lover. The _Black Pearl_ is waiting for her, willing to take their King back to land. Back to where she can see if there is anything to salvage of her father's holdings, if there is anything she can mend of the damage done by Lord Beckett. Back to where she will stuff herself into an ill-fitting corset, trying to pull back and remember how to be a proper lady instead of a pirate and a King.

She can hear the cry of seagulls in her ears, the wind a fine accompaniment to the sound of the waves meeting the shore. The taste of ocean salt on her lips, the briny smell of the water at her feet... It's a song that calls to her soul and she doesn't want to give it up. Not again. Not without the promise of a lover to soothe her ache on land.

And as a crab scuttles across the sand, bone white and familiar, she decides.

She's a King.

She doesn't have to.

◊◊◊

Elizabeth has no stake in the _Black Pearl_ , other than a general wistful fondness. She leaves Jack and Barbossa to bicker over it like petty children, loudly and at length. Gibbs halfway looks like he'd prefer to leave with her, but his loyalty lies with his captain, and that would never be Captain Swann.

Sao Feng's men have no real loyalty to her either and keeping them as the Pirate King would only invite future reprisals. She encourages them to return to Singapore and does not protest when Tai Huang takes the _Empress_ as its captain. This peace offering will hopefully give them enough incentive to answer the call, should the Brethren Court convene again in her lifetime.

Shipwreck Cove is a fortress, built from the remains of vessels that crashed against her cliffs, and it casts a pall over the town that cannot be denied; even in the light of day, it remains imposing and dark, gently rocking with the water beneath it.

It will serve Elizabeth's purposes to stay here until she has a ship of her own, using the time as it is built to cultivate a skeleton crew that will sail with her. It will also give her time to discover if there are any duties she must uphold as King; she would enjoy having a conversation with Captain Teague and the chance to get a closer look at the Code in its purest form.

She has always treated the Code as more of a general set of guidelines, but if she wants others to follow her lead, she'll need to know about the rules of those that came before her.

And how to twist those rules to her advantage.

She is, after all, a pirate.

◊◊◊

There is a heartbeat. A pulse and throb that reverberates through her bones.

Elizabeth wakes, expecting to hear the beat of her husband's heart in the still of the night, but finds herself listening to something else. A song that sweetly calls her down to where the waves lapped at the dock.

She pulls a coat over her loose breeches and shirt to ward off the chill, sheaths a sword and lights a candle for her heavy, iron lantern. Shipwreck Cove is a pirate hold and there will be plenty of people awake, but unless the Court has convened they rarely light the lamps on the upper decks. Just the ones down at the docks, and even then, just enough to keep ships from sailing straight into the city.

She walks across wood that creaks no matter how light her feet, trailing down stairs and oddly placed rigging as she listens, ears straining for the sound: a heavy thump and a swish of water, a call that urges her forward and down. She skips the first dock she passes and the second, but stills at the third, eyes out on the dark water, looking for... something. For anything that seems amiss.

Which is why she startles when she hears the wet roll of water on wood behind her, turning on her heel with a scowl to mask her apprehension.

Tia Dalma stands in the dark, the hems of her dress wet and a trail of foam leading out behind her. She smiles, oyster pearl teeth glinting in the candlelight. "Elizabeth," she greets, eyes hooded and dark.

There's something different about her. Something unsettling about the way the light hits her skin and ripples, as if she were made of water instead of flesh.

But- that's it, isn't it? She is Tia Dalma no longer, free of her fleshy human prison, and though Calypso might assume a human form she is very clearly _not_.

"Calypso," Elizabeth returns, her voice as even as she could ever hope for it to be. It has only been a few months since the battle against Lord Cutler Beckett. That Calypso has sworn vengeance on the Brethren Court is not lost to her, but if she is to die here then she will die with a sword in her hand and freedom in her veins.

Her smile grows wider. "M'not here for your life, Pirate King," she says, stepping closer. Elizabeth is careful not to cede any ground, even as a hand reaches to stroke across the swell of her belly. "Nor the life of your heir."

"Then what are you here for?"

Calypso sighs, a heavy breath that fans the smell of ocean rot across her face. "Can't a woman want to see her King?" She pauses, tilts her head and glances at Elizabeth from under the fringe of her eyelashes; Elizabeth would call it coy on another woman, but not on a goddess. "William, witty Jack - they be touched by destiny. But you, Elizabeth– You reached out and took what you wanted. You chose your own fate. You chose freedom." Her voice lowered, "You chose _me_."

"Will-" Elizabeth begins, startled at this line of conversation.

"He fell in love with you," Calypso croons, sliding a hand from her belly up her arm, curling her fingers against the curve of her shoulder. "Not knowing your heart already be taken. Not knowing you had always loved the sea."

"That's an interesting interpretation-" Elizabeth says, wanting to protest, wanting to tell her that she had lost her heart to William Turner as a _child_. She'd grown up daydreaming about running away with him, sailing the seas with a pirate, even though the only proof she had of his piracy was the golden medallion she had stolen from him.

But. Even if that was true, even if she _had_ loved the idea of escaping to the sea more than she had loved Will - that was years ago and certainly not true now.

"Is it?" Calypso asks. Her face is so close to Elizabeth's own that there is no where to look but in her eyes, dark and deep. The longer she looks the more it feels like she's gazing into the ocean during a storm, water churning violently beneath those delicate eyelashes. Even as a deep, yawning hunger and primal fear wells up inside of her, Elizabeth cannot bring herself to look away.

Calypso closes her eyes and Elizabeth does not gasp as she manages to tear herself away, but it is a close thing. Her heart is racing under her skin as she glances from the dock to her lantern to the broken hull of a ship that forms a wall of the city. It takes a long moment before she's willing to turn her gaze back to Calypso, the seconds ticking away as she musters the fortitude to lock eyes again.

She hadn't needed to.

The goddess in front of her is smiling, lips stretched too wide and the corners of her closed eyes crinkled in delight.

"I thought so," she says, gliding back - not a step, but a _roll_ , water billowing the skirt of her dress and foam staining the wood beneath her. "Your majesty," she adds, and Elizabeth can't quite tell if the dip of her head is mocking or sincere.

Calypso lifts her chin and her spine seems to stretch, angling herself towards the midnight sky. She inhales but it is _wrong_ somehow, skin expanding just enough that Elizabeth feels a twinge of worry - the memory of how Tia Dalma had grown and the destruction she had wrought at the forefront of her thoughts.

But Calypso does not destroy the city built by those who had first imprisoned her.

She only disappears, leaving behind a heavy splash of water that soaks through Elizabeth's boots.

◊◊◊

If Elizabeth now casts her eyes to the ocean more often it is no one's business but her own. Her yearning for the open waters has only increased... but she is forced to remain on land with the quiet knowledge that her ship is not yet finished. It is probably for the best, all things considered, as her infant son has not yet been weaned.

Still. She feels the call of the sea, a siren's song that whispers in her ears, and she wants to leave Shipwreck Cove so badly she can taste it.

Calypso has not deigned to visit her again but Elizabeth feels her presence every time she walks along the docks, the salty air hanging over her head like a funeral shroud - or perhaps a wedding veil. The first few weeks had been unnerving, feeling that invisible weight settle on her shoulders, but it has been months and Elizabeth has grown inured to the sensation. It is still there as a distant awareness in the back of her mind, but it is no longer an icy finger down her spine or a noose around her neck.

The purpose of Calypso's visit still eludes her. She has thought on it in the dark hours of the night, with nothing but a precious chest to accompany her. She has wondered, if Calypso had come with the intention to kill her and decided to stay her hand. The sea is ever changing, after all.

But more often she has thought of Tia Dalma and the conversations they had shared aboard the _Hai Peng_. They were quiet, intimate little things, curled together against the railing. It had been safe talking to her, a woman who knew nothing about Elizabeth Swann, the daughter of the Governor of Port Royal. She had not known to ascribe the virtues and delicate manners of a lady to Elizabeth Swann, pirate, and it had been so freeing.

She would like to believe that some of Tia Dalma still exists in Calypso, a woman so fierce and free, with a streak of kindness that would allow her to comfort a stranger. But it seems foolish to try and ascribe fond sentiment to a goddess —who has every reason to want her dead— due to a human shell that she was only starting to call friend.

...perhaps she is more of a fool that she'd like to admit.

◊◊◊

Elizabeth feels like shouting from the crow's nest when her ship is completed. It is perhaps smaller and less austere than one would expect for a Pirate King, but she's _hers_ and she's perfect. Though, tragically, just because her ship is built does not mean she can sail off into the sunset with the wind at her back.

She has done most of the preliminary work - negotiating for water and provisions, stocking up on ammunition and gunpowder, charting a prospective course for the _Sweet Siren_ 's maiden voyage - but there are still odds and ends that must be wrapped up. Not to mention attending to her crew and a toddling son, who much prefers to cling to her breeches rather than play with Teague's dog.

It is rare that Elizabeth finds a moment to herself.

Which is why she savors every second of solitude she manages to carve out of her schedule.

She stands alone in a small freshwater inlet a ways off from Shipwreck Cove, naked as the day she was born. It's much too shallow for anything save a small rowboat to traverse, but the clear, cold water is perfect for bathing. The dirt and oil that she scrubs from her skin is carried out to the ocean on a gentle current and her calluses are softened by the gritty sand from under her feet.

Pirates might not put much stock into personal hygiene, but Elizabeth will always delight in the feeling of being _clean_. There is something to be said about feeling the ocean breeze on skin freshly scrubbed free of dirt. That she's also taken the time to wash her hair, hanging in a wet drape over her shoulders, means that she shivers every time the wind sweeps down her spine.

Unfortunately, her attention is more focused on cleaning her clothes and setting them out to dry than it is on her surroundings.

Which is why she startles when Calypso appears behind her, nothing but a roll of water to herald her arrival.

"I'm not a jealous lover, Elizabeth," she says, her breath cold against the skin of her neck and smelling of brine.

"That's a lie," Elizabeth snaps, perhaps unwisely. But everything Tia Dalma had said about Calypso still stands, and she had spoken often about how Calypso had so dearly wanted to claim Davy Jones' heart as her own.

Elizabeth can feel the shrug of Calypso's shoulders, pressed as closely as they are. She could step away, there are no arms that attempt to cage her in, but that feels like admitting defeat. She doesn't move.

"He be a good captain, your husband, loyal to both King and Goddess," Calypso hums, and inches even closer, enough that Elizabeth can feel the jut of her hip bones.

It sends heat spiraling down to her core, her fingers and toes warming at the implicit promise of something _more_.

Elizabeth shakes her head roughly, wet hair slapping against Calypso's cheek. "I am _loyal_ ," she says through gritted teeth, even as her body aches to accept what is being offered. "I'll return to that island before Will's ten years are up and he'll never have cause to doubt me."

Calypso laughs, low and intimate. "He's a fine man, dear William. Do you think he begrudge your comfort?"

"Maybe not," Elizabeth dips her head in vague agreement. "But that doesn't mean I'll seek out another lover just because my bed is cold."

"You be a pirate," Calypso chides. "Take what you want."

"Give nothing back," Elizabeth murmurs under her breath, a pirate's catechism if there ever was one.

Calypso sighs and runs a hand from the crown of Elizabeth's hair down to the swell of her breasts, a nipple pebbling further under the stroke of a dark fingernail. Elizabeth stiffens, the desire to push into the touch warring with the knowledge that she should step away.

"See you on the seas, your majesty," Calypso says, and pulls her arm away.

Elizabeth turns on her heel, water sloshing around her hips at the swift movement, but the goddess has already disappeared.


End file.
